It was a morning in late February. The day before there had been a storm of
unusually damp, clogging snow, which had lodged upon everything in
strange, shapeless masses. The trees bore big blobs of snow, caught here
and there in forks or upon extremities. They looked as if the northwester
had pelted them with snowballs. Below the rise of ground on which the
Lamkin house stood there was a low growth of trees, and they resembled
snowball bushes in full bloom. Amelia Lamkin at her breakfast-table
could see them. There were seven persons at the breakfast-table: Josiah
Lamkin and his wife Amelia; Annie Sears, the eldest daughter, who was
married and lived at home; Addie Lamkin, the second daughter, a pretty
girl of eighteen; Tommy Lamkin, aged thirteen; little Johnny Field, a child
of four, an orphan grandchild of Amelia Lamkin; and Jane Strong,
Amelia's unmarried sister, who was visiting her. Annie Sears was eating,
with dainty little bites, toast and eggs prepared in a particular way. She was
delicate, and careful about her diet. The one maid in the household was not
trusted to prepare Annie's eggs. Amelia did that. She was obliged to rise
early in any case. Harry Sears, Annie's husband, left for the city at seven
o'clock, and he was also particular about his eggs, although he was not delicate. Addie loathed eggs in any form except an omelet, and Hannah, the
maid, could not achieve one. Therefore, Amelia cooked Addie's nice, fluffy
omelet. Tommy was not particular about quality, but about quantity, and
Amelia had that very much upon her mind. Johnny's rice was cooked in a
special way which Hannah had not mastered, and Amelia prepared that.
Josiah liked porterhouse beefsteak broiled to an exact degree of rareness,
and Hannah could not be trusted with that. Hannah's coffee was always

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